


Sign Swapping (drabbles) Part 2

by Leticheecopae



Series: Drabble Sector [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal, Blackrom, Bondage, M/M, Restraints, redrom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More prompted drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sign Swapping (drabbles) Part 2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vera_lemur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_lemur/gifts), [Kimya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimya/gifts).



> I had a wonderful time writing these ones, though as always, I may have missed something in the editing process. Still, i hope you enjoy them, and thanks again to my wonderful prompters.

**(underwater/Car)**

It was gone. The car was already nothing more than a sheen of bubbling blackness with the barest red tinge from the tail lights. The lake was already going back to it glassy texture as the loons, or feather beasts, or whatever the fuck Gamzee called them started to come out again. It was a miracle you’re even alive. Dripping wet and shivering, but alive.

“Well shit bro.” The high drawl makes your fists clench as your head jerks so fast you feel something pop and strain. Gamzee is there, standing hunched, make up dripping off his face. The easy smile that comes from his high is still plastered on his lips as he watches the last of the red disappears beneath the water. It looks like one of his horns is slightly bent, maybe even cracked. There is a long gash somewhere on the other side of his face that you can’t see, but there is enough purple dripping from his chin to let you know for sure. And he is still. Fucking. Smiling.

“The fuck was that?” You ask, trying to keep your voice neutral but all you really want to do is jump forwards and tear his throat out with your teeth. He doesn’t reply at first, just looks at the water with that easy smile that makes your hair stand on end half the time. For a moment you think you may need to repeat the question, but he hears you finally from whatever cloud he is floating on and respond.

“I told ya motherfucker,” and the way he tilts his head at you really makes you want to back up, because now you can see the cut and its more than a cut. His fucking mouth has been torn somehow and you can see more teeth than usual. Gamzee doesn’t even see to register the pain, hell if anything he looks like he is enjoying it, and that is what makes your legs scream to move. He knows it too, and that makes it all the more frightening as he grins wider and you wonder if that flesh will tear more. Maybe you should tear it for him.

Gamzee is more than just waxing black with the way his eyes are being eaten up by their pupils, and the yellow is going orange. They are practically glowing in the half light of the moon and its worse than anything Stephen King or any other fucker that wrote about homicidal clowns could come up with.

“Driver picks the motherfuckin music or no one does.” The look he gives is predatory, his voice low and gravelly. You feel fear prickle over your skin and your hand is already going for your strife specibus when it’s suddenly over. His attention is back on the lake, features sliding into the calm of the high caused by the weed you had created. Karkat had told you it wasn’t nearly as effective as sopor, and now you realize just how little it really does to help Gamzee cage whatever beast he has living in him. Not that he usually keeps it caged around you.

Swallowing you pull out your computing shades and pray that someone is on this late, your own high long forgotten. You just stare at Gamzee through the text as you swap the shades John gave you for the others. There is little comfort in the fact that you had saved them in the crash.

As you send the message you watch the clown bend down and pick up a rock before skipping it flawlessly over the surface of the lake, right over the sunken car.

“Little miracles aren’t they motherfucker?” He whispers and watches the water ripple and distort your reflections. In that moment Gamzee has never scared you more in your life. For the first time you actually feel he could kill you with his hate, just turn around and snap your neck and really not care if he was losing his kismesis. That he didn’t really care if he died while he took you out; holding your sleeve in a sinking car and laughing like it was the funniest fucking thing in the world, you thrashing and pulling you both out of the car window and towards air.

The wind blows over your wet skin, and you can’t suppress the shiver.

Your name is Dave Strider. And for the first time in a long while, you are afraid.

 

**(Don’t breathe, Flowers)**

You can’t breathe. There is no air, anywhere. Its all been replaced with the overpowering stench of the fifty different breeds of flowers that Eridan somehow managed to get into your room. The bees are fucking loving it, but you...

Don’t breathe, don’t breathe, don’t breathe. You repeat over and over as you attempt to dodge around the fifty or so bouquets. Eridan had said something about flower, romancing, and all that bull shit one night before you thoroughly plowed that princely nook into the bed, but holy fuck really? There was no real romance to blackrom except for some hot as hell dirty talk and maybe a few candles; though the wax was usually meant to be used for something else.

So the shit ton of flowers locked up in your room not only didn’t make sense, but it pissed you off. Was Eridan trying to quadrant swap on you? Now? After a good sweep of being black? The fuck?!

Then you see it as you finally have to take a breath, heady scent of flowers and something else flooding your senses as the plant comes into view. The bees around it are on the floor, writhing from drinking its nectar and you clamp a hand over your nose. The leaves are an almost emerald green, the flowers such a deep purple they look almost black.

DON’T BREATHE, DON’T BREATHE, DON’T BREATHE. The Solanum Negros plant sat in the center, the epitome of black romance if connected to flowers. The scent it gives off would send any troll into a rage if breathed in enough, and if ingested? Well it was one of the best/worst aphrodisiacs depending on who you asked. It was also held sacred to the Grand Highbloods for ceremonies to speak to their mirthful messiahs, smoked in pipes or just eaten plain raw..

“Do you like my presents Sol?” You don’t move, because moving uses up oxygen and you are already fucked in that aspect. “So pretty isn’t it?” The claws on the back of your neck make you prickle as teeth nibbled on your ear. “I told you I wanted to give you flowers.” One bite is especially hard and you gasp, inhaling everything, and feel the rage in you start to build. God you are fucked.

 

**(orgasm denial, pillow)**

You are shredding the thing. Shredding it like it was made of paper and not a ridiculous amount of cloth and feathers. And fuck the feathers because they are making breathing even harder as they stick in your mouth while you just try to take in air, because fuck if having one bulge shoved in your nook and one pushing deep inside your ass not the strangest, most painful, most wonderful thing you have ever felt.

Dave had given him the idea. The fucking Strider had gotten it into Sollux’s head, who then decided that your think pan needed to know about this strange kink in human sex where you actually take a bulge to the backside, and therefore got it FUCKING STUCK in your own think pan. So now here you are getting your ‘ass plowed’ while the honey blood has his light show turned on you. The only reason you know that your hands are surrounded in red is because you can see the blue wrapped around your bulge. That fucking color that is keeping your orgasm at bay.

That was why the pillow had to die, because this is the third time you have come so close to the edge only for Sollux to cut you off just before the screaming. You wish you could stop the string of curses that comes right before you do, but they always leak out. A whimpered ‘fuck’, a growled ‘nooksucker’. Its uncontrollable.

“You ready yet?” And the smugness of his voice has you thrashing against your bonds, choking on feathers while trying to tell him ‘YES GOD DAMN IT! I AM READY FOR YOU TO THRUST IN SO HARD I CAN’T TELL BLOOD FROM GENETIC MATERIAL AND CAN’T SPEAK FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS DUE TO THE AMOUNT OF OBSCENE SCREAMING YOU PUT ME THROUGH!”, but instead all that comes out are some choking pleads.

It’s enough for him to take pity on you though, and with a few deep thrusts and the release of your bulge, your cumming, and your throat feels like it’s going to tear you scream so loud. The bucket flies across the room in a blue streak, catching your material just before it hits the bed, and with a few more thrusts Sollux is out of you and pumping into it also. He lays against your back, panting along with you as you both ride out your orgasms.

“Fuck Kk.” He whispers, arms wrapped tight around your middle, chest keeping your hands in place instead of his psionics. The only reason you haven’t collapsed yet is because of the bucket pressing hard into your hips.

“Get off me you asshole.” The words are scratchy and you cough a bit. Sollux chuckles and kisses your shoulder, but does as you ask. When you can finally fall to the side you spit out a mouthful of feathers, and finally breathe.

 

**(John/Jake: tentative, first time explorations. "if we practice on each other it doesn't count because we're like... family right?"/ jacket)**

John’s hands were quite literally shaking as he helped Jake get off his short sleeved jacket. It was kind of cute in a way, the way he fumbled with it, bit at his lip with those adorable buck teeth. They weren’t much different from the ones in Jake’s face, but they looked so damn good on him

Jake shuffled out of his clothes, hands going straight to the hem of John’s shirt and pulling it off him in turn, leaving them both with only too tight pants left. The bed they were using made little noise as they shifted with nervous excitement, hands drifting where they could, but always staying above the belt.

“So have you and Dirk ever done anything?” The question had come from nowhere that afternoon as they had sat looking out over the expanse of unexplored land.

“Well...no not yet really. I’m still getting my bearings with the idea. I haven’t really done more than kiss him. Why do you ask?”

“Because...well I don’t have really anything to go off of with anyone when it comes to the sex stuff, and if I asked Dave he would just play it off or laugh. Either that or lord it over me.” Jake had given a snort, understand what the other meant. “I can’t ask Rose or Jade, that would be too awkward when it came down to it. Joking about it and actually discussing it are two different things you know.” Jake nodded, understanding for the most part.When it came down to it the only person he could have asked was Jane. She had been the only one of the four who could have obtained physical relationship was, but from what he knew the revival kiss Dirk had given her had been her first.

“But with you guys, well I thought maybe since we don’t know each other too well it wouldn’t be as awkward, and with how well...attractive you are I assumed you would know a bit more about making out and shit.” He had gone red then, a light tint that spread over his ears and cheeks.

“Well I am sorry to say old chap that when it comes down to it I probably know less about all this romancing and making out then you, never having really been around anything remotely smoochable besides a homicidal robot.” John had looked at him a bit wide eyed for a moment before dropping his gaze.

“Oh,” he had mumbled and silence stretched between the two. “Would you like to, you know, practice? With...me?” For some reason the question had sent heat straight to his gut while his brain reeled. Jake had stuttered a bit at the idea.

“Wouldn’t that be cheating?” The idea of doing such a thing was appalling, though he had never really understood cheating, and could they section themselves off when there were so few of them left?

"I don't think so. I mean...If we practice on each other it doesn't count because we're like... family right?" Jake had never heard such utter bullshit in his life, and now, looking at John, he was confused as to how much they really could be considered family, all ecto-biology shenanigans aside. Where he was hairy, John just seemed to have a slight brushing. Where he was buff, John was lithe.

“Can I get these off?” And when the fuck had John’s voice started sounding like that? The nervous hands tugging on his belt made Jake want to buck forwards, feel them lower. Instead he licked his lips and nodded.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’d like that.”

 

**(Dirk/Equius: feathers, prolonged foreplay and bondage/occasion)**

 

It was a special occasion when Equius was allowed to tie Dirk down to a table. He had tried to do so during a few especially black moments, but Dirk had always been much too quick for him for it to actually happen. Usually it ended up with Equius having whatever item he had been planning on using wrapped around his own body. Tonight though, tonight was different.

The feather was a deep orange, almost a burnt color, and had come from the strange sprite that was always darting in and out of hives. He had started to collect the feathers because of their orange hue. They were so close to Dirk’s eye color, and so very soft. So he had started to collect them, stroking them sometimes, and planning, because when one thought of ‘soft’ Equius was the last thing that came to mind.

So tonight, on one of the few nights that Dirk would let his kismesis take over, tie him to the metal table, and do as he pleased, the usual toys stayed locked away. Instead Equius had laid out his collection of feathers, a few looking a bit worse for wear from rougher handling, but still soft and useable for his ideas.

Dirk looked like he was close to begging he was so hard, his cock flushed red and dripping a steady amount of pearly liquid. Equius still refused to touch him though, kept the gag secure in his mouth, and continued to trace feathers across his body. Now and again he would use them to caress Dirk’s balls, cock, and gently trace them between the blondes spread legs to tease his opening. The Strider was slowly starting to come undone from it all, the slightest bucks happening as he tried to get more friction from the feathers, the way his chest would rise and fall as they ghosted over his nipples.

It had been well over an hour at this point, yet Equius had stayed patient, seeing how far he could push Dirk, sweat dripping from him as he watched the stoic way Dirk fought to keep himself in control. In the end it was Equius who broke, bulge aching to push inside Dirk’s, hands demanding to bruise soft flesh. he did feel a small sense of victory though when he finally knelt between Dirks splayed legs, hands gripping and bruising his hips. Dirk looked at him, eyes half lidded and practically glowing with lust. But there, deep in the iris, Equius could see the slightest plead. One that was full of hatred and just said ‘fucking please’. Then they flashed in the light and just said ‘fuck me’.

Equius never did disobey a command.

 

**(Gamzee/Karkat: gone <3 frantic, forbidden, fuckit we're doing it anyways/scratch)**

 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” It became a chant as Karkat twisted in the mirror, attempting to get a look at the claw marks on his back. Gamzee stood behind him, hand stuck somewhere between reaching for Karkat and being pulled to his side. Karkat had made one rule; no marking, at least not where people could see. Gamzee had fucked that up.

“I thought your shirt all up and covered it bro.” Gamzee said softly as he looked at the five angry red marks. He hadn’t meant to be so rough, but sometimes it just came out, and when it did...well those were the days Karkat did as much standing as possible.

“Does it look like its going to cover this shit storm up?” Karkat growled and pointed to the nape of his neck where the marks disappeared into his hairline.

“Well, with how your hair is growing like the fucking miracle it is, I would think so.” Relief started to filter through him as the thought came out. That was quickly squashed when Karkat rounded on him.

“Kanaya is cutting my hair in an hour Gamzee. A FUCKING HOUR! How do I explain to her THIS. THIS,” he jerked a thumb at his neck. “Doesn’t happen between moirails Gamzee. This is fucking Matesprit territory. A territory that is so fucking unexplored right now that we are eyeballs deep in the quicksand of ignorance, that if we went any deeper the only thing to mark out existence would be the tips of your horns!” The tirade made a small pang happen in Gamzee’s chest as Karkat turned back to look at the marks. He didn’t like upsetting his moirail/matesprit...whatever they were, and even though part of him wanted to get angry right back at Karkat he just couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry.”Gamzee muttered and kicked at the floor. Karkat’s shoulders dropped at the words and sighed.

“No, no you’re fine damn it.” Karkat huffed and ran a clawed hand through his hair before before turning to face Gamzee. “I’m supposed to be your morial, and now I’ve got us in the mess of not knowing if we’re matesprits or what anymore. Can’t blame you for the claw marks either, it comes with the pailing territory.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck and sighed again, making Gamzee smile at least a little before the purple blood took a step forwards and wrapping the still half naked troll in a hug, pressing their bare chests together.

“Well that’s the miracle right motherfucker? Figuring it out together?” Karkat sighed and pushed his head against Gamzee’s chest.

“Whatever you nook head.” The smaller huffed, hands going around the tallers middle. He had an hour to figure this out. An hour to get things ready for the damnable haircut, an hour before he went out and had to explain to the rest of them that he was flipping quadrants with his moirail, and there was no way of telling where they would end up. Gamzee was just happy Karkat was letting him hold him.

**Author's Note:**

> Want a set of drabbles done? Send me a message on here or my tumblr leticheecopae.tumblr.com


End file.
